


Perfect

by lunarlychallenged



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: kinda a coffee shop au, oh well, so it might suck, this was sort of requested
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 04:25:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15283590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarlychallenged/pseuds/lunarlychallenged
Summary: Darcy was a man straight out of your fantasies, which made him way out of your league.  If only he understood that.





	Perfect

When your life was primarily made up of fantasies, it was annoying when you couldn’t get the fantasy quite right. When you couldn’t get the fictional lover to say the right thing, or when you couldn’t figure out what was supposed to happen next.

It all had to be perfect, or end perfectly. If your fantasy life couldn’t be perfect, there wasn’t a point to having one. Imperfections were for real life.

The most recent person that your fantasies centered around made it nearly impossible to fantasize. Even in your wildest dreams, Darcy was too good for you. He was perfect. He was the perfect guy, and that made it impossible to imagine him wanting you. 

Okay, not perfect. He couldn’t be perfect, because you didn’t know him. You knew his name, because he told you his name every day when he came to the coffee shop you worked at. You assumed he was perfect, since he had that smile and those hands and he tipped well and he checked the nametags of everybody working so he could thank people specifically.

Perfect.

Perfect, and so, so out of your league.

 

 

You could see the surprise on his face when he came into the shop one day and saw that his regular table was taken. There were plenty of other seats available, but his steps faltered when the one he always used was occupied by an older looking businessman.

“I can take your order,” you parroted. 

He glanced at the menu, though he ordered the same thing everyday. He had ordered the same thing since you started working the morning shift two years earlier, and you liked to think that he would keep ordering a chai latte for as long as you were there.

“I’ll have a chai latte. The order is for Darcy.”

You knew his name. You smiled politely anyway. While you got his order ready, you gave him a stiff smile over the counter. “Shame that you lost your seat.”

He blinked, surprised, but smiled. “It is. I always liked the view of that seat. Do you think any other seats are worth a try?” He was careful to pronounce every sound in every word, and you had to bite back a broad grin. He spoke perfectly, too. 

You pointed at a chair in the opposite corner. “That’s a nice spot. There’s an outlet. Or,” you added with a nervous laugh, “the counter is always good.”

He accepted his cup with a grateful grin. “Thank you, Y/N.” He settled onto a seat at the counter. “I’ll save the corner seat for a more adventurous day.”

He sipped his coffee while he read the paper, and you peeked at him from the corner of your eye the entire while. You had talked to him. More than just taking his order, anyway. You filed it all away, knowing you would comb over it later. Perfect, perfect, perfect.

 

 

It caught you off guard when Darcy came back to the counter after finishing his drink. You hadn’t really talked to him since the day he sat at the counter, weeks earlier. His face was tight and uncomfortable, and he looked embarrassed to be up there. 

“How can I help you?”

He leaned in close, making sure there was nobody listening in. “Somebody vomited in the bathroom.”

“Okay,” you sighed. “I’ll take care of it.” You were halfway to the men’s restroom before you realized he was following you in. “Oh, sir, you don’t have to -”

“It’s a lot,” he said quietly. “You’ll want a hand.”

When you pushed the door open, you understood what he meant. What had the sicko done, smeared it across the walls? Christ, it reeked. “Darcy, you should go. Seriously, it isn’t your job to clean it up.”

“It shouldn’t be your job, either,” he said. His nose wrinkled when he looked at it, but he rolled up impeccable sleeves and grabbed several paper towels.

“Wait!” He jumped when you barked the word at him. “Hang on, let me get you some gloves. We’ll want some heavy duty stuff for this.”

Neither of you spoke much while you cleaned, but it was companionable silence. It would be punctuated by one of you groaning in disgust, or laughing when the improbability of it all overwhelmed.

“I wish I had time to go home for a shower,” he sighed when the two of you left the newly cleaned room.

“That wouldn’t cut it,” you replied. “This’ll take bleach. Maybe acid.”

He laughed. “For my eyes, maybe.”

“Thank you,” you said. “For helping, I mean. I’m sure my manager will kill me when she finds out, but I really appreciated it.”

“I would say it was my pleasure, but that would be a lie.” When you grinned, he smiled back with a newfound friendliness. He had always been kind before, but some horrors were binding. Projectile vomit appeared to be one of them. “See you tomorrow?”

“If I skip the bleach and acid,” you said. “Hopefully we’ll meet under better circumstances.” You would take any circumstances, as long as he was there, but you would skip the vomit if at all possible. 

 

 

The next time his seat was taken, Darcy didn’t hesitate to sit at the counter. He sat down and smiled at you, pulling out a newspaper instead of a book. 

You grinned. “You still read the newspaper? How old even are you?”

“It would look pretty bad if I didn’t read the newspaper I work for,” he said.

You wiped down the counter as an excuse to keep talking to him. He always wore the most exquisite suits, and you supposed that working for the media explained it. You certainly weren’t complaining. “You’re a reporter?”

“Oh, no,” he said quickly. “No, I’m in charge of the layout of the paper.”

“That’s pretty cool.”

“It’s alright,” he agreed. “It pays the bills.”

You leaned against the counter. “What would you do if you didn’t have to worry about paying bills?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “That’s why I have this job, I guess. I don’t have any better ideas.”

Another customer came in, so you hurried away to help them. Darcy waited patiently, leaving his newspaper on the countertop as he did. When you got back, he had a question waiting for you.

“Is this the job you want?”

You shrugged. “It wasn’t. This was supposed to be my post-school filler job; the job that I worked while I looked for my career. It’s been two years, and I’m still here.”

“Well, you’re good at it,” he said.

“Awe, shucks,” you said lightly. “That’s good to hear. Now I just need to find a coffee shop that pays a living wage and has customers that treat me right.”

Darcy’s smile faded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply -”

You blinked, coming back to reality. “No, no, you didn’t say anything wrong. Really, it’s nice to know that I do a good job. And for what it’s worth, the customers aren’t all bad. I even look forward to some of them.” 

You leveled him with a smile, and he pulled his glasses off to polish them. “Customers appreciate seeing you here, too.”

“Customers will be seeing me around for a long time yet,” you said. “Aren’t they so lucky?”

“Incredibly,” he replied, with a smile so genuine that you had to go back to the register to hide your smile.

 

 

Darcy didn’t take his seat back in the following days, opting instead to stay at the counter.

 

 

“Good morning, Y/N,” he said with a smile. “I’d like a -”

“A chai latte, I know,” you said. 

“And the order is for -”

“Darcy,” you interrupted. “I know your name. You come every day.”

He grinned. “So do thousands of other people.”

“Ah, but we always remember our favorites,” you said.

His smile escalated into a laugh. “How flattering.”

“It really is,” you confided. “We arm wrestle to man the register in the mornings, just so we can serve you.”

“Really?” He looked startled.

“No,” you snorted. “I’m not strong enough to win like that. I’m here because everybody else is afraid of me.” You could practically feel the other barista rolling her eyes, but she stayed quiet. You actually got to be on register every morning because you begged the manager to give you the position. Everybody knew about your thing for Darcy, so nobody fought you on it.

“Ah,” he said. He took his cup, grinning when he saw that you drew a smiley face by his name. “I can see why.”

“I’m terrifying.”

“Absolutely.” When he dropped money in the tip jar, he rolled his eyes and sighed. “I would never give this much money if I wasn’t so intimidated.”

“Right on.” You gave him your best glower, but it was ruined when you melted at his smile.

“Never do that again,” he said, and dropped another dollar in the jar.

 

 

Surprisingly enough, knowing Darcy didn’t kill the fantasies. On the contrary, they grew in detail and number. It was easier to get him right when you learned that he only worked for the newspaper because his dad owned the place.

He gave you his number so he could text you about an article he wanted you to read.

You started playing Words with Friends again, once you realized that he loved it more than life.

He would draw pictures on his napkins, and you would write different Jane Austen character names on his cups. 

He would stop by during your breaks, and you started reading the paper just so you could talk to him about it.

You learned that he cleaned his glasses when he was nervous or embarrassed. He learned to predict what jokes you would make, before you started saying them.

Instead of being your refuge from reality, fantasizing about a life with Darcy made reality more difficult to cope with. Before you started talking to him, he was out of your league because he was perfect. Once you knew him, he was out of your league because, despite his imperfections, he deserved so much more than what you had to offer.

You never worried too much about knowing that unfortunate truth, since you never thought that he believed anything different. The perceived inequality was so obvious, so predictable, that you never thought there was anything to say.

 

 

“Any big plans for the weekend?” You popped the top onto his cup and handed it over, letting your fingers touch his a little more than necessary.

“No, but I do have plans,” Darcy said. He didn’t look pleased about it.

“Do tell.”

“My dad is having some family friends over for dinner, and he wants me to come along.” Darcy looked more upset about it than you would have expected, so you frowned at him.

“What’s the problem? Friends and free food. What’s wrong with that?”

“He’s done this before,” Darcy said glumly. “He brings friends over, but only when they have a single child around my age. They’re always successful, or on the way to it. It’s like a chaperoned blind date.”

“Oh.” Oh, oh, oh. “Not interested in the date?”

“No,” he sighed. “I haven’t been interested in their interventions in a while.”

“I only see two options here,” you mused.

“I’m listening,” he said. A smile was already curling at the edges of his lips.

“Number one - leave the country. They probably don’t know potential suitors in every country.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “And the other?”

“Get a date of your own. Put yourself out there. Find someone who you’ll be happy to go out with,” you said. Not you, of course, but somebody. Somebody awesome, who had lots of money and charm and was probably gorgeous. Somebody like him.

“That’s not a bad idea,” he admitted, “but it isn’t as easy as you make it sound.”

“A handsome man like you? Piece of cake,” you scoffed.

He grinned. “If you have any suggestions, let me know.”

“Will do,” you said. You had no suggestions. You didn’t know anyone who was good enough for Darcy.

 

 

Darcy had started coming over during his lunch break sometimes, so you would take your break and eat lunch with him. You never quite understood it, since the coffee shop food was only halfway decent, but you didn’t discourage him. It was the highlight of your day.

He bit into a sandwich, already reaching for a napkin to wipe his fingers on. “Do you ever imagine living somewhere other than New York?”

“I imagine it, sure,” you said.

He looked surprised, maybe even a little unhappy. “Like where?”

“Anywhere. How could you watch a movie or read a book, and not imagine a life where it takes place?”

“The Hunger Games must have been agonizing,” he said with a crooked smile.

“Harry Potter was a miracle.”

“Lord of the Rings must have been pretty great,” he said thoughtfully. He loved Tolkien. It hadn’t taken you long to notice how often he brought up Tolkien’s books and movies, but you had never discouraged it. You reread the Lord of the Rings trilogy, just so you could carry a conversation about them.

“What about you? Do you ever imagine leaving?”

“Not really,” he said. “I like things the way they are.”

“I can tell,” you said with a smirk. “When you decided you wanted a new friend, you chose somebody who you could hang out with in the place they work.”

“What do you mean?” He looked honestly baffled, and you had to fight back a laugh.

“You’ve been seeing me at work for years, Darcy. We became friends, and your way of furthering the friendship was to come to the shop more often.” You bit into a donut, catching falling bits of frosting in the hand you cupped underneath. “We’ve never seen each other outside this place.”

He frowned. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“That’s how it is,” you said with a shrug. “I’m not complaining, just making an observation.”

“It has to change,” he said with finality.

“It’s fine, really -”

“No, you and I are friends.” He didn’t pull his glasses off, not entirely, but he traced his fingertips along the frames. “I want to see you more often. We can actually do stuff, like regular friends do.”

You could not think of a single thing that sounded bad about it, so you agreed.

 

 

In the end, it turned out that there was a problem. The more you saw him, the more you liked him. You liked that he offered you his elbow to hold when you walked through crowds. You liked that he sometimes went to restaurants just because he wanted an appetizer. You liked that he always dressed up, even on days off. You liked everything about him, aside from the fact that he deserved more than you had to offer.

Every month, he liked to go to the planetarium. It was the only place in New York that let you really see the stars, even if they were fake, so he wanted to look. New York was always a little overwhelming, he would say, but seeing the universe that way made it easier to cope with the chaos.

One evening, while the ceiling screen was talking about the Andromeda galaxy, you felt Darcy lean over to look at you.

“What is it?”

“Do you ever think that you would leave New York, if there was a job opportunity somewhere else? Something that you knew you’d love?” You couldn’t see his face clearly, but you saw the glare of the lights in his glasses.

“I dunno. Why?”

He shifted again, pulling his glasses off to rub at them. “I just like the way things are, is all.”

“I never said that I wanted to leave,” you said with a wry grin. “I don’t even look for jobs outside the city.”

“If you did,” he said quietly, “I wouldn’t want to lose you.”

“As if you could get rid of me that easily,” you said.

He shoved the glasses back up the ridge of his nose. “What I’m trying to say is, if you tried your hand at a career somewhere else, so would I.”

You blinked at him. In the background of the conversation, the narrator was talking about black holes. “You have a career here.”

“I could transfer to a different paper,” he said confidently. “I'd follow you.”

What was he talking about? Friends don’t follow friends across the country, and they especially don’t worry about this type of scenario when there is literally no reason to. “What’s bringing this on?”

“The thing is,” he said, “I really like you. I want to be with you, wherever we are. I know you don’t like the way things are in your life, but I want to always be the good thing. Anywhere we are.”

“Well,” you said awkwardly, “I’m staying here.” He liked you. Why on earth would he like you? You hadn’t planned on him liking you. He shouldn’t.

“I want to be with you here, too,” Darcy said. You could hear the cautious, hopeful smile in his voice.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you said in a low voice. 

“Why not?” There was no defeat yet; he just sounded curious. 

“Because you can do better.”

“Of course I couldn’t,” he scoffed. “There’s nothing better.”

“Of course there is! You’re a handsome man with a good job. I’m a barista, with no other prospects. You have a future, and I’m lucky to have a now,” you said. You were grateful for the dark. If you cried or something, you didn’t want him to know.

“I don’t want anybody else.”

“You should try to,” you said.

“Why?”

Your answer was cut off when the lights flickered back on, conversations roaring to life as all of the patrons stood to leave. You thought through your response as the two of you left the building, hoping you would find the right words to prove your point. The point didn’t present itself until you were walking toward the subway station.

“You’re like - like a prince out of a fairy tale,” you said. Darcy smiled, but you plowed forward. If you let yourself get lost in that smile, you would forget what your point was. You would forget why all of this mattered at all. “You’re the prince, and I’m the peasant, and it makes it all really weird.”

“Peasants and princes get together all the time,” he pointed out.

“Well, yeah,” you said. “But the stories never say that they’re in love, right? It’s a business deal, or a marriage of convenience. They aren’t soulmates or anything.”

“Can’t it be both?” He pulled his glasses off and polished the lenses again. “Can’t what’s best for everybody else be what’s best for the two of them? If it ends in happily ever after, doesn’t that mean love is a part of it?”

You frowned, rubbing your face with one hand. Things were finally going the way you had hoped, and it wasn’t what you wanted anymore. At least, it was what you wanted, but it wasn’t the ending you had decided on. “That’s what I’m trying to say. I don’t think this is what’s best for everybody else, and I don’t think it’s what’s best for us.”

He gaped at you, glasses forgotten in his hand. “You don’t believe that.”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t. Do I make you happy?” His jaw was set, eyes hard. For once, he didn’t look perfect. He looked hurt and unhappy, and the imperfection wasn’t anywhere near as satisfying as you might have thought.

“Of course you do,” you said. “Of course you make me happy!”

“Do you think I’ll keep making you happy?”

“Yes.” How could he not? He made you ridiculously happy, just like he always had. That didn’t mean that you would make him happy.

“There you go,” he said. He gave a satisfied, tight-lipped smile. “I’m not saying that we’ll live happily ever after, but I do think we could live happily.”

That gave you a pause. “I make you happy?”

“Of course,” he said. “The happiest.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll always make you happy.”

He gave a bark of laughter. “Isn’t that a risk everybody takes when they start dating? I know you make me happy now, and I think you’ll make me happy later. I care about you, and I think that you care about me. Nothing else matters.”

“Other stuff matters -”

“No.” He stopped you in the middle of the sidewalk and put his hands on your shoulders. “I want to be with you. I won’t try to push you into anything you don’t want, but if you want to be with me, that’s the only important thing. We should give this a try.”

You stared back at him, thrown. Maybe he was right. Maybe love didn’t have anything to do with deserving. It was just love and happiness, and you really thought that the two of you could have an abundance of both. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He smiled, slow and sweet. “You want this?”

“I want this. Let’s give us a try,” you said. “That concludes this business deal, prince.”

“Right.” He pulled back a little bit, but paused. “Wait, there’s one more thing to discuss.”

“What’s that?”

He pulled you closer and kissed you. He kissed as perfectly as he did everything else, which was kind of unfair. You wouldn’t be complaining.

He pulled away and grinned. “There we go. Meeting adjourned.” Instead of offering you his arm, he held your hand. You smiled while you walked. This was better than your best fantasies.


End file.
